Happy 18th birthday Tami 💐🎂❤️

Tami: My Daughter, My First Love, My Forever Girl

Today, Tami would have been eighteen.

It is a strange thing to count birthdays for a child who is no longer here. Time keeps moving forward, adding years to her age in my mind, while my heart still remembers the little girl whose life ended just twenty-three days before her fourteenth birthday.

Tami was my first child. She made me a mother. Before she spoke her first words, she taught me a language only mothers understand—the language of sleepless nights, fierce love, and a bond that begins before birth and never truly ends.

From the very beginning, Tami made her preferences known. She rejected formula completely. She wanted only breast milk, and somehow that seemed to set the tone for our relationship. We were inseparable. We shared a closeness that went beyond the ordinary bond between mother and daughter.

As an only child myself, Tami became more than a daughter to me. She was my companion, my confidante, and in many ways, the sister I never had.

We shared clothes, shoes, perfumes, and secrets. In fact, till date, I make sure that I have the last perfume that she used and the one she liked always... at least for as long as they are in production. We laughed together. We argued too. In fact, we fought often. Looking back now, I smile through my tears because our disagreements were never evidence of distance; they were evidence of how deeply involved we were in each other's lives. We cared enough to challenge each other. We were close enough to be completely ourselves.

Tami was a fascinating blend of qualities. She was a conservative Christian with strong convictions, yet she absolutely loved fashion. She could discuss matters of faith with surprising maturity and then spend the next hour talking about clothes, shoes, and style. She carried both grace and individuality in a way that was uniquely hers. She was very observant too, especially with how people related with her and her immediate family.

She looked so much like her father. Every time I looked at her face, I saw traces of the man who adored her. She was undoubtedly her daddy's favourite girl. The bond they shared was beautiful to witness. He loved her deeply, and she knew it. She had him wrapped around her little finger. He gave her all she wanted that he could afford. There was always a "reason" to indulge her. 

Although Tami inherited her father's face, she possessed a mind that was all her own. She was extraordinarily intelligent. For years, she held the scholarship in her school, a reflection not only of her brilliance but also of her discipline and determination. Learning came naturally to her, but she never allowed her intelligence to make her arrogant.

What made Tami truly remarkable was her heart.

She was and still is one of the kindest and most generous person I have ever known. She noticed when people were hurting. She gave freely. She cared deeply. She had an incredible sense of humour and could make people laugh when they least expected it. Even now, memories of her wit catch me by surprise and leave me smiling through tears.

And then there was her role as a big sister.

She adored her younger brother, whom she affectionately called "Lil Bro." She was protective, loving, and endlessly proud of him. She never let anyone bully him. Tito for the longest time was known in school only as " Tami's brother". She filled his world with laughter, guidance, so much love and affection. The bond they shared remains one of the most precious gifts she left behind.

Suddenly, everything changed. She became ill.

What began as an unexpected illness became a five-month journey that ended in a way none of us could have imagined. We hoped. We prayed. We fought alongside her. We believed she would be fine, this was just a phase, until it was not.

Five months later, she was gone.

There are moments in life that divide time into "before" and "after." Losing Tami was one of those moments.

The world continued, but ours was forever altered.

People often say that grief becomes easier. That time heals all wounds. I have not found that to be true at all. 

What I have learned is that love continues.

I cry every day because I miss her every day. There has not been a single day since her passing when I have not longed to hear her voice, see her smile, or share a conversation with her. The tears are not merely signs of loss; they are evidence of love that still exists with nowhere to go.

Four years later, she remains woven into every part of my life.

I miss my daughter.

I miss my friend.

I miss my shopping partner.

I miss the girl who borrowed my things.

I miss our arguments.

I miss our laughter.

I miss our daily hangouts.

I miss watching her be a daughter, a sister, a student, and a young woman becoming herself.

Today, she would have been eighteen.

I imagine the young woman she might have become. I imagine her sitting at a university desk, pursuing her dreams with the same determination she showed as a child. I imagine her faith deepening, her fashion evolving, her laughter filling rooms, and her kindness touching lives.

I imagine her calling her brother "Lil Bro" one more time.

And while grief reminds me of what I have lost, love reminds me of what I was privileged to have.

For nearly fourteen years, I had the honour of being Tami's mother.

Not enough years.

But beautiful years.

Years filled with love, laughter, lessons, and memories that death cannot erase.

Happy eighteenth birthday, my precious girl.

You mattered.

You matter.

And you always will. ❤️